


RR Whumptober 2020

by GlassThreads



Category: Original Work, Renegade's Redemption
Genre: Captive, Manipulation, Waking up Restrained, Whumptober, shackled, whumptober2020
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:47:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26749723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlassThreads/pseuds/GlassThreads
Summary: There exists a world known as Naruune, where a grumpy sun goddess and her gaggle of godly children slowly figure out their relationship with the ever-evolving humanity.This is a collection of short fics using those characters and that setting, inspired by Whumptober 2020 prompts.
Kudos: 1





	RR Whumptober 2020

**Author's Note:**

> To read the actual story these guys all come from, please check out the tumblr blog 'renegades-redemption'

A soreness in his wrists tugged Cyrus back to consciousness. How strange, from the gentle swaying of the room and the sickness in his stomach, he almost thought he was seasick. 

Was he on a boat? But he didn’t remember getting onto one, last he remembered was… 

With a sharp click, light filled the room, and pain stabbed through his forehead. Cyrus shut his eyes tight against it, his long and pointed ears flicking down in discomfort. 

He had gone to one of those Safehavens the humans had formed. Ruby Vale, he thinks it was called? Had come here… with an offer. An offer to help. 

Considering his situation… it doesn’t look like it went so well. Which, of course, you idiot! What were you expecting, for the humans to welcome you with open arms and feasting? You, a Noble Hallow? 

One of the hated gods that betrayed them? He’s probably lucky they didn’t kill them, but that doesn’t help the anxiety further stirring up his stomach. 

At least let him get his feet back under him. Like this, he’s forced to stand tiptoe on the cold metal floor. Despite likely being deep underground, he feels like he’s perched on a tall, thin tower. Like any moment, he’ll fall and fall and fall and fall and-- 

The clicking of heeled shoes is loud in the small room, jolting his mind from its spiraling. He tries to snap to attention, standing up as straight and tall as he can while on tiptoe. As though someone chained with their arms above them can look anything other than pitiful. Finally opening his eyes, he sees the woman approaching him. Neat and organized, professional. Her pointed ears betray a Noble ancestry, though of course they’re nowhere near as long as his. 

“Wh-wh-wh-- ah, er, h… h-hello?” Cyrus mentally smacks himself, then clears his throat and tries again. There is no sounding professional or intimidating from this position, but he can’t give away how scared, unbalanced he feels, but he already has. “H-he-- no, what is th-the meaning o-of this!” he tries to demand. But his voice only comes out as a stuttering squeak. 

The woman, for her part, doesn’t look bothered by his predicament at all. Her expression is cold and focused, and she looks at Cyrus in a way that makes him feel even less at ease. As though he’s a butterfly pinned beneath glass. She takes out a sort of tablet, thin, and stands posed with her thumbs hovering over it. 

“Don’t insult my intelligence,” she says. “You are a Noble Hallow. A magical god. I’d say these restraints are rather  _ light _ , hearing what some of your kin can do.” 

“N-not me, I don’t-- I-i mean, I  _ never _ would, b-but I-- I-i-i don’t even really have… a-any powers… n-nothing I could use to h-hurt anyone, r-really… I-i’m Cyrus, I-i’m-- er, reality… a-and truth and j-judgement… s-so…” He tries to grin reassuringly, but he’s sure he’s on the verge of tears. 

By her name, he wants his sister. Even if she wants nothing to do with him now. 

“Noble Hallow Cyrus, hm?” The woman glances back down at the tablet. It’s nothing Cyrus has seen before, but he assumes it’s some of the human innovation he’s heard of. 

“Hm… I see.” Again, her attention focuses back on him, and he flinches. He’d settle for his hood back to hide from that gaze, they seem to have stripped him of his cloak while he was unconscious. 

“Why are you here,” she asks. 

“I…” he swallows. “I-it… might be hard for you to believe, but… w-we Hallows… w-we love humanity. S-s-something went wrong with the others, I-i don’t know why they’re acting… h-how they are… B-but I want to help them, t-to… f-find out what went wrong… s-so nobody else h-ha-has to get h-hurt…” 

The gaze only seems to intensify, and he stares back down at his nearly-dangling toes. 

“...You love humanity. Really.” 

“Y… yes…” 

“You tell me this. Do you know what some of your siblings have been doing, Cyrus?” 

She begins to walk in a circle around where he’s confined. Desperately he edges in a smaller circle of his own, trying to keep her in his eyesight. 

“Y-yes, I know!” 

“The storms of one have repeatedly flooded the agricultural farms in Emerald Delta Safehaven, another displaced and kidnapped the local subterranean nightling communities--” 

“Th-they wouldn’t do it normally! I-i wouldn’t do it, I-i wouldn’t-- I-i told you something is wrong with them!” he cries out. “I… y-you have records on me, r-right? Ch-check them, see if I-i’ve ever done anything like that, th-there’s… I-i… I’m the Hallow of _truth_ , wh-why would I lie?” 

“Hm.” She walks to a chair in the corner and sits, browsing through the information on her tablet. Cyrus tries to hold his position, only to yelp and suddenly swing in a reverse circle as the chains unwind himself. He scrambles until his feet are back under him, but he’s trembling now from having held this position so long. Stars he wants a seat. 

Within his chest, his heart thumps a frantic staccato. Does he dare ask her to trust him, to undo these chains? Would that just prompt her to yell at him, to leave him up here out of spite? 

...Breathe. In, out. No, it’s just his anxiety talking, it doesn’t fit with her character he’s seen. She’s pragmatic, focused, the chains are a caution and if she can confirm he’s no threat at all… Still, the anxiety stills his tongue as he tries to remain standing, hands held above his head. 

Many long minutes pass. And then she looks up, as though she’s just recalled he’s there. 

“So, tell me, you wanted to help. How do you propose to do that.” 

“Um-- I-i thought… I thought we could w-work on something t-together, I-i thought… I-i could tell you a-about how the Hallows… h-how they were, wh-what I know about them…” 

“Is that so.” 

Under her gaze, he wilts. She rises again, strides towards him. Her hand moves towards his face and he winces, convinced she’s going to hit him… only for her hand to just. Gently hold his chin, tilting it up to look her in the eye. 

The focus… no, there’s a  _ fascination _ in there. 

“I believe you,” she says simply. It brings him no comfort. “My tutor, she always said that the Hallows were… benevolent. Necessary. Good for the natural order. But isn’t it the natural order that all things rot? I do believe you, that the Hallows loved humans as you did, once. And I also believe you that they changed. And I will  _ gladly _ accept your help. Thank you, Cyrus.” 

For the first time, she smiles. 

“Wh-wh-what are you going to do to them?” he can’t help but ask. 

“Cyrus,” she says, carefully. Neutrally. “Are you going to  _ retract _ your offer?” 

“Wh-wha--?” 

“You  _ so kindly _ offered us your help, in our hour of need. Do you perhaps… not care for humanity as you so claimed?” The fingers holding his face become cold, sharp fingernails, digging into his skin. “Are you going to turn your back on us, condemn us through  _ indifference? _ ” 

“I-- no, no, I-i just-- I-i swear I’m y-your ally, I didn’t lie, but I-- th-they’re not-- n-n-not rotten, j-just-- th-they’re not, n-not beyond help, I-i--” 

Oh, stars. 

What’s this woman going to do his family? His twin? 

“The Hallows have made it clear, however they felt in the past, they want humans dead,” the woman says precisely. “You cannot claim to love humanity while also trying to preserve that which wishes us harm. Whose side will you support, Cyrus?” 

“I-i… i-it’s not… th-th-that simple…” 

All she does is purse her lips, and Cyrus’ stomach sinks. 

“Is that so?” 

She turns on her heel, and makes for the door. 

“W-wait!” he calls out. “P-- please let me down, I-i’ll be good, I-i want… I-i don’t want to hurt a- _ anyone _ , i-is that… i-is that so horrible?” 

She pauses. Then without turning, says “When it’s one or the other, yes. Yes, it is so horrible, because you’re choosing to let both die for petty / _ idealism/. _ ” 

The door slides shut. And then he is left in darkness. 

  
  



End file.
